


Gone (Cat)Fishing

by firelord_zutara



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Catfish - Freeform, Catfishing, Fluff, Identity Porn, M/M, Online Dating, Online Relationship, Online Romance, Social Media, Twitter, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 01:54:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4372634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firelord_zutara/pseuds/firelord_zutara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Tony and Steve both have fake Twitter accounts that happen to meet online.  Really, it was all Clint's fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gone (Cat)Fishing

**Author's Note:**

> I watch too much Catfish, and too many episodes with sad endings. So here's a happy one!

Really, it was all Clint’s fault. 

Unless of course, you _asked_ Clint, then he would blame Natasha. Unless said assassin was in the room, then Clint would probably refuse to say anything at all.

Because, really. It was Clint’s fault.

After having been thawed out for only a few months now, it came as a bit of a surprise to the Avengers that he’d managed to grasp the concept of most modern tech rather quickly. Tony had asked him about this once, at which Steve replied:

“A German scientist threw me into a metal coffin and injected me with experimental serum, in which I emerged a foot taller and nearly a hundred pounds heavier. I think I can handle change. And weird.”

In which Tony nodded, scratching his goatee as he turned up the volume on the latest episode of Game of Thrones. Tony, of course, was smirking to himself because at that moment in time, he believed that he still had Steve convinced that the Stark family on the show were his long gone relatives. At the same time of course, Steve was smirking to himself because he did, in fact, know the show was completely fiction. 

It’d only taken him six episodes to figure that out, but like Steve had said, he was _used_ to weird. 

Anyway.

Steve was used to weird, and he was used to people trying to mess with him, and he was getting used to what 21st Century people did for fun. 

Well, mostly. 

So when Clint showed him his fake Twitter account, in which he posed as an Avengers fangirl and got into “nerd fights,” as Clint called them, with other people (who were also probably using fake accounts, Steve figured), he could see why being a completely different person online could be really amusing. 

He also found it to be really shady, and downright dishonest. So.

“That’s the _point_ ,” Clint had said, flailing his hands for an overly dramatic effect. “That honestly gag is _so_ Captain America.”

“I _am_ Captain America,” Steve replied, eyes narrowing.

“So don’t be.”

Hmm.

“Honestly,” Clint continued, smirking now at the thoughtful gleam in Steve’s eyes, “as long as you don’t get into, like, a serious love affair with anyone, you’re not harming anybody. Well, not really. I think.”

Well, it’s not like _that_ was ever going to happen.

\------

“ _Nickolay Demetrios_ , Clint, really?”

Clint shrugged, leaning further over Steve’s shoulder as his fingers scrambled across the keyboard. “What, would you prefer _John Smith_?

“Um, well that sounds _believable_ , so…”

Clint rolled his eyes, and Steve huffed. Smirking, however, Clint typed away, filling in the small bio that Twitter allowed.

_28, American History Professor, Veteran, Part Time Firefighter, Toledo Ohio._

At that, Clint snickered. He was so good. 

Steve however, only rolled his eyes. “Ha ha ha, Clint, you’re a riot.”

“Of course I am!”

Steve sighed. But, everything was ready to go with the profile, and he was about to his save, when-

“Wait?”

Steve raised an eyebrow, and Clint swallowed, tapping at the screen. “Uh do y’wanna put your sexuality on there? Just so you don’t get random men knocking at your door, I mean-”

“I’m bisexual,” Steve said with a small shrug. “I guess I don’t really mind who comes knocking at my door.”

Clint blinked. “Oh, okay.”

And that was that.

“I’ll follow you with my fake and you can follow me, so you have a starting point,” Clint said, and with a wink, he was off, leaving a slightly bemused Steve with his fake Twitter account, ready to face the world.

Or something.

\-----

Really, it was Pepper’s fault. Wait no, it was Rhodey’s. Yeah, definitely Rhodey’s.

Well, honestly, it was Clint’s fault. But really it was Pepper’s.

Probably.

Pepper had once made a passing comment about how if Tony was less _Tony_ , he’d probably be easier to deal with because Tony Stark had just spent 36 straight hours “tinkering” in his lab, running on nothing but coffee and whatever Dummy had happened to put into the smoothies he kept making (hopefully nothing toxic, but it was Dummy. Well, more accurately it was Tony’s workshop, so), and Tony had completely ignored the multiple emails and stacks of paperwork that were all courtesy of the most beautiful Pepper Potts.

But, because Tony was Tony, he’d made a fake online persona and had Jarvis direct all of Pepper’s emails to said persona, and all emails, messages, and so on were sent from the same persona.

It was _Sebastiano Osvaldo, 34, Mechanic, Hoboken New Jersey._ Tony thought it was hilarious. He’d even gone so far as to make a Twitter, which was completely unnecessary, but still hilarious. Pepper’s feelings weren’t exactly mutual, but Tony was still alive. So. 

The Twitter, however, he found to be rather amusing, since it was nice to _not_ be Tony Stark sometimes. Chat with random people, reply to random people on random things without everyone freaking out about Tony Stark. 

So one night, as he was lying in his actual bed for once (per Pepper’s very threatening and scary order), he was scrolling through Clint’s fake profile ( _Archivus Maximus_ , really Clint?), and found a new face which had been tagged in one of Clint’s terrible posts.

_@ProfNickDemetrios whats the fruitiest subject at school? History, bc its full of dates? Get it? haha_

Tony exhaled a sharp sigh, digging his face into the palms of his hands. Clint, Clint, Clint. Jesus.

As horribly lame as the tweet was, it did catch Tony’s attention, and so he click on the Demetrios guy and.

Holy hell. 

There was only one picture of the guy uploaded, but holy hell was he something. Light brown hair strewn messy across his forehead, lips pulled into a sly smirk. And his eyes; crisp, azure eyes that were almost as rich and deep as-

Well.

Tony, being Tony (even if he was _Sebastiano_ right now), did what any sane man would do, and sent him a DM.

_Hey baby blue, why the one picture, afraid you’ll get eaten alive on here? ;)_

It was shocking, really, that Tony got a reply as fast as he did.

_So far you’re the only one who seems to be doing any eating_

Tony blinked. Blinked again. Then grinned, loud and snarky. Perfect.

_Ooh, is that the case? I’m touched-no, I’m honored. I’ve got you all to myself, do I? Can’t complain, I’d say. I’m a sucker for a pretty face._

_Lucky for you, so am I._

Oh, this was going to be fun.

\-----

This was stupid. This was incredibly and horribly and. And.

Uh.

There was a reason Steve shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be flirting so obnoxiously to some Italian stranger he’d just met on Twitter. On his _fake_ Twitter no less.

Captian America wasn’t one to flirt like this, this oversexualized bantering.

Steve Rogers? Eh. He wasn’t exactly so sure on that, not like he’d had the time to test it out.

Or, okay, he had the _time_ , just not the will. 

But doing so over a fake account was much, much easier than he’d expected. Hell, it was too easy.

But it was just flirting, really. Flirting was harmless, flirting was what people _did_ in the 21st Century. It was simple, it was relaxed. 

But of course, the next morning Steve had to go ruin it all by sending the guy a seemingly harmless question. 

_So, a mechanic, eh? What exactly does that entail?_

Yup. Steve was fucked.

\----

Okay. Uh. Okay.

Flirting was what Tony _did_ , for years and years now. Less so after the whole, uh, thing. But yeah, flirting. Tony Stark was legendary for it. Leg. End. Ary. 

Really.

So making suggestive comments to his new mystery blue eyed boy was so natural, it was second nature. He didn’t need to think, it just spewed from his brain and into his phone and, well. It worked.

Maybe _too_ well.

What Tony Stark did not do, was small talk with strangers he was supposed to be sexting with (well maybe not that yet, but still). Small talk, online? On a fake account? He just didn’t do it.

So why he found himself gushing out the details of motorcycle and car mechanics to some guy, he had no clue. Really, he didn’t. 

And as to why he was so engrossed with his conversation that he’d bumped right into Steve on his way to the kitchen, again. No clue.

“Oh, whoops. Sorry, Cappy, I was just-”

“No, it’s okay, I was…”

Tony turned his eyes up, to see Steve smiling somewhat sheepishly, shaking his phone slightly. “Didn’t see where I was going.”

“No worries, Cap. Who you texting, your girlfriend?” Tony asked, smirking to himself at the childish remark. At that however, Steve blushed slightly, rolled his eyes, and walked off towards the elevator. 

Uh, okay. Right.

\------

As previously stated, Tony didn’t do small talk.

So as to why he found himself, now weeks later, talking to Nick about the new Mad Max movie they’d gone to see (separately, and well, that was somewhat unfortunate, really), Tony had no explanation. Again.

And as to why he found it so cute, the way Nick would focus on such small details of the movie, like when Max ate the damn freaky lizard, or the whole seed thing, ranting on and on about them rather than focusing on the whole movie, well.

Well.

“I swear to god, we’re not watching _A New Hope_ again, it’s been like, seven times now.” Clint whined from his spot on the floor, blanket curled around his body, which was curled around an oversized bowl of popcorn.

“ _Les Mis_?” Natasha suggested, smirking slightly as Bruce sent her daggers with his eyes. The Other Guy wasn’t really a fan of musicals, as they’d learned too little too late. 

“ _The Princess Bride, Goodwill Hunting, Fight Club…_ ”

“Can we watch _Goodwill Hunting_? My friend told me it was good,” Steve piped up, and Tony eyed him because really, Steve just usually went along with whatever because Steve was Steve and he was like that. 

“Of course it’s good, it’s a movie about me,” Tony smirked. Then paused, scrunching up his nose slightly. “Well, if I was poor.”

“Wait, who’s your friend?” Clint asked, suddenly enthralled, eyes wide as he turned to Steve, as if the man had the latest gossip about which lucky girl the star quarterback had his eyes on now. “You got yourself a girl, Cap?” 

“Uh,” Steve fumbled, looking more anxious than embarrassed, which was odd, really. “I don’t know if we’re dating but...her name is Se-Sabrina,” he finished, nodding lamely. 

At that, Clint eyed him for a moment, until his mouth turned into a wide, snarky grin. “Sure thing, Cap! Alright, movie, yeah?”

Jarvis rolled the movie, and if Tony just happened smiling at his phone throughout the whole thing, no one said anything. 

It’s not like he noticed Steve doing the same thing, anyway.

\----

_Good morning, babe._

_What is this, high school? I’m a 34 year old man, I don’t swoon over good morning texts._

_If I could be there with you to offer you a good morning kiss onto your beautiful lips, then would you swoon?_

_God, Nick._

\----

_How was work?_

_Exhausting. Need a three day long shower, I think._

_And if I was there….?_

_You could do my laundry, I’m so tired and it’s piling up._

_Nick! Such a tease! I’m not your maid._

_And if I said pretty please?_

_With a blowjob on top? Of course ;)_

\-----

_Sebastian? Are you up??_

_Of course babe, you know my sleep schedule - or lack thereof. Heh._

_I just…._

_Can’t sleep?_

_Yeah…._

_Want company?_

_Please. Just, stay with me. Please?_

_For you? Always._

\-----

Steve was so fucked.

He was fucked and he was in love with a guy; a guy who he knew took on too many clients at once and never got enough sleep and liked to pretend he hated it when kids came into the shop with their parents but really he loved it, loved the kids, really, and he that he knew Sebastian lost his parents at a young age and he claimed it didn’t affect him but it did, it really did, and Steve knew how he took his coffee and his favorite midnight snacks and how he knew of countless TV shows and movies despite claiming to have no time to watch anything because he was always so busy, too busy, but for Steve (Nick, it was Nick) he’d make time, of course he would because Sebastian was Sebastian and Steve was so in love with him it hurt, it ached, it was too much, too too much.

And he was oh so royally fucked. 

“Yup. You are most definitely fucked, Steve,” Natasha had said after Steve (vaguely) explained the situation to her at two in the morning, after she found Steve nestling his aching heart over a leftover plate of Clint’s homemade and somewhat terrifying nachos (terrifying because he was 93% certain the green stuff in it was not jalapenos). 

“And so, you need to meet this guy.”

With tired eyes, Steve looked up at Natasha. Nope, she looked completely serious. Huh.

“Uh, what?”

She offered him a small smile, cocking her head slightly. “You need to get it all out in the open, Steve, really. It’s for the better, no matter what happens.”

Yeah. No. Probably not.

“Tell me, did he ever ask to video chat you? For your cell number?”

Well. 

“No, I don’t think...” Steve replied, squinting his eyes as realization pooled in the pit of his stomach. Sebastian had never asked for any of that; all their communication was done through Twitter, and Twitter alone. 

From Steve’s end it made sense, because he _was_ lying. But from Sebastian’s….?

“I know it might hurt, but he’s probably lying too, Steve.”

Steve nodded. It’s not like he could be mad at the guy for it; hell, in some twisted way, it made it better. Two liars in some odd relationship that was never meant to be. Not that he dwelled on that last part for too long, because really, it hurt enough.

“I think you’re right, Natasha.”

“Of course I am,” she chided, smirking as she pulled herself up from her stool at the breakfast bar. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, some of actually need our beauty rest.”

Steve chuckled, smiling slightly. “Goodnight, Tasha.”

“‘Night...but Steve, really? You think I meant myself? Stark can pull the baggy eyed, disheveled look on a good day, but you? Not so much.”

\----

_I think we should meet._

Tony gulped. He knew this was going to happen, really. He was in too deep and that, that itself was never supposed to happen.

But since when had Tony’s life every gone according to plan?

Yeah. Exactly.

_I dunno, I mean I have so many clients backed up, and...yeah. Ugh._

_I haven’t been completely honest with you, and I don’t think you have, either. Please?_

Fuck.

 _Are you mad?_

A pause. Fuck fuck fuck fu-

_No, I don’t think so. Like I said, I’ve been hiding my own secrets._

Tony sighed. Jesus.

 _Yeah I mean….yeah. You’re right, about. Yeah._

_I’ll be in New York tomorrow, I can come to Hoboken?_

_No no, I know a place in the city, it’s just a small diner, we’ll meet there?_

_Of course._

\-----

“Got a hot date, Stark? Thought you were doing that weird online shit.”

Clint was lounged across the couch on the common floor of the tower, offering Tony his best shit eating grin when Tony walked into the room in a surprisingly clean shirt and pair of jeans. Tony, of course, offered the archer his own.

“Actually I do, Legolas. And I think you know him. Or well, your stupid Maximus _friend_ knows him.”

Clint blinked. Tony’s grin grew.

“Nicholay Demetrios, that ring a bell?”

At that, Clint went still, shock swimming across his face, soon followed by a frenzy of flickering emotions that Tony couldn’t quite decipher. 

Uh. 

“Shit,” Clint muttered, flinging himself off the couch and out of the room, cursing under his breath as he went.

Uh. Okay.

Shaking his head, Tony strode towards the elevator, only to be greeted by Steve when the door slid open. 

“Oh, hey Steve. Got a hot date tonight?” Tony asked, giving the man a once over. Dress shirt with fitted khakis. The lucky gal would probably heel over at the sight.

Steve offered Tony a small smile, the tips of his ears coloring as he did so. “Actually, I do. And you…?”

“Well, you know me,” Tony smirked, waving his hand. “Anyways, are you…?”

“Uh yeah, going down,” Steve slid over, making room for Tony.

They rode down in comfortable silence, Steve getting off at the main lobby, declining Tony’s offer for a lift in the car.

For once in his life, Tony was early, as he realized when his driver dropped him off in front of the diner. Only quarter till seven. 

But perhaps it was fitting, for once (hah) in his life, Tony was honestly nervous. Whoever Nick happened to be, he’d probably recognize Tony right away and that was. Well. 

Something he was trying not to think about but failing desperately at it. 

But really, despite the fact that the face on the picture was probably most likely not going to match who Nick really was, Tony still knew him, really, he did. He knew he did, somehow.

It might’ve been silly and stupid and dumb, but damn if it didn’t feel like the most sane thing Tony had experienced in awhile. 

At seven on the dot, however, a familiar face strode into the diner that was most certainly not Nick. 

“Steve?” Tony asked, hopping off the barstool to greet the man. “Thought you had a hot date.”

“Yeah, I...we’re meeting here.”

“Oh. Well, me casa is you casa...or something.” 

Steve chuckled slightly at that, digging his phone out of his pocket. “I don’t see him, I should tell him I’m here.”

Oh. Him. Hmm.

“Yeah me neither, I guess I should…”

Just as Steve had begun to put his phone away, Tony’s screen lit up, a Twitter notification blinking in the corner. 

_I’m here._

Huh. Weird. 

_Me too, uh, black jeans, dark blue shirt, looking sexy as ever._

Steve’s phone buzzed. He checked it. Looked at Tony. Blinked. Looked back at his phone. Looked at Tony.

“No….”

“Is there a problem…” Tony trailed off, because Steve was staring at him, staring at him like he’d just realized the Earth revolved around the sun and and that the grass was green and the sky was blue and. And.

Oh. Oh _fuck._

Tony, Tony is an _idiot_. He really is, on his tombstone it'll read _Anthony Edward Stark: Billionaire, Genius, Playboy Philanthropist and A Huge Fucking Dumbass._

“So uh, Nick?” Tony asked somewhat sheepishly, offering Steve his best grin. 

“And you must be Sebastian,” Steve replied in turn, but he wasn’t blistering with rage, as Tony thought he might, at being played, at-

He stuck out his hand, looking...amused?

“Hi, I’m Steve Rogers, it’s nice to meet you.”

Tony blinked at the hand, then at Steve’s dancing eyes, those blue, blue eyes, fuck. Oh fucking hell.

“Tony Stark,” he took Steve’s hand, giving it a firm shake. “And I’m a fucking idiot.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, looking like he was fighting to contain a hysteric bout of laughter. And hell, maybe he was. The situation was so corny and ridiculous and stupid and maybe.

Maybe Tony had always pictured Steve’s blue, blue eyes when they talked, which honestly made Nick’s look dull in washed out. Maybe.

Maybe.

Oh fuck.

Without warning, Steve grasped Tony’s wrist, pulled him out of the bar and down a block, into some scummy alleyway and Tony was so shocked, so shocked he couldn’t process anything because Steve’s lips were on his and his hands on his hips and oh god, oh god.

Too soon, too soon Steve pulled away and he was smiling, smiling as if. As if.

“I think,” he muttered, thumb grazing against Tony’s jaw and he shuddered, back digging into the brick wall and oh fuck, oh fuck oh- 

“I don’t think I always knew. But somehow….”

Tony leaned his head into Steve’s chest, at which the man sighed, wrapping his firm arms around him, head digging into the crook of Tony’s neck.

“But somehow, I couldn’t deny it.”

And really, neither could Tony. Because it was never Nick’s eyes, it was Steve’s, it was, it really was, and somehow, somehow….

“Perfect,” Steve muttered, hand grazing across Tony’s back.

Yeah. That.


End file.
